Tangency
by zero-damage
Summary: In a stark hospital corridor, Naoto tries to bridge the gap.


**Tangency**

Brilliance and companionship are mutually exclusive. Naoto spent half her life believing this rather than face the alternative: that there was a profound gap between her and others which she never learned the social skills to bridge, and perhaps never would. That without her prowess as a detective, she had nothing. In what seems to be a common thread among the Investigation Team, meeting Souji Seta changed everything. Twelve months on - or eighteen since she arrived in Inaba, and six since Souji left it - Naoto is in the uncomfortable position of having awkward, tenuous friendships, which she still doesn't understand and continually worries about breaking. Particularly right now.

There is a case in England demanding her grandfather's attention; a favour owed to an old colleague. Naoto has agreed to accompany him. She leaves tomorrow.

Kanji's mother was admitted to hospital this afternoon.

The corridor is cold and white and awful, but the look on Kanji's face as he sat by his mother's bedside was far worse. He's still in the room now, leaving Naoto and Rise sitting next to each other on one of the benches outside, identical to those on the other floors of Inaba Municipal Hospital. Naoto is reminded of last December: of Nanako's illness, of how close they came to losing her, of the cold weight Naoto felt in the pit of her stomach. Feeling the same way now is inexplicable, when she and Tatsumi-san have spoken on only a handful of occasions - but where she once closed her eyes and saw Nanako lying limp in an over-sized bed, Naoto now sees Kanji, slumped in a chair too small for him.

"Maybe we should go in," Rise says, studying her nails. Like many things associated with her, they are assorted shades of pink.

Naoto shifts against the bench, her fingers gripping the edge. "That would be improper. We should leave them in peace."

At least, she presumes so. It seems appropriate. Her parents died when she was five years old, ten thousand kilometers away; she barely remembers their faces, much less how she felt at the time.

"I just - if it was my grandma, you know? I'd want people around." Rise's brow furrows with resolve. "He should have _us_ around."

It occurs to Naoto, then, that she has never thought to ask about Rise's own parents. The omission is careless.

"And if it was your grandfather, you'd—" Rise hesitates. "Well, okay, maybe you wouldn't. But we'd be there anyway."

A small, childish part of Naoto wants to protest that Grampa would _never_ go, that he _promised_ her he wouldn't - but that was twelve years ago, and a desperate attempt at calming a scared and lonely child. At seventeen, Naoto knows better. Everyone leaves in the end. She turns toward Rise and musters a slight, half-smile. "I suspect I'd have no choice in the matter."

Rise nods. "Yep."

Naoto wonders what they would say or do – what _she_ should say or do - should Tatsumi-san not survive this illness. People are difficult to comprehend and predict, and Kanji is no exception. She mentioned this to Rise once before and was thoroughly scolded; _detectives should be good at reading people, Naoto-kun_. Naoto did not, at the time, point out that gauging the actions and reactions of a criminal suspect is relatively trivial, and a very different matter to supporting and understanding a friend. Kanji has already lost a father, late enough in life to have learned to love him, and he may lose his mother now. Naoto's own experience – scribbled postcards, old photographs, a mosaic riddled with missing pieces – is so different as to be almost useless. As are many of her experiences, or so she has rapidly been discovering. Endless casework does not help build bonds with others. It can, in fact, prohibit them, or at least make them appear unnecessary. Rewind two years and she would not be sitting in a hospital like this, sick tension coiling her insides, because she would have no reason to care.

Kanji is a reason. One that makes no sense to her (no sense in such distractions, none at all) but a reason nonetheless.

Another fifteen minutes pass – Rise fiddling with the charms on her cellphone, Naoto staring fixedly at the opposite wall – before the door creaks open and Kanji walks out into the corridor. He doesn't quite look at either of them. "Yo. Still here?"

"Of course!" Rise says, as she springs from her seat. "Is Tatsumi-san doing okay?"

"Doctor said it's her heart," Kanji says, with a stiff, rough sort of shrug. "But she'll get outta here soon, maybe a few days."

A gentle smile edges at Rise's lips. "That's good to hear, Kanji-kun."

Naoto asks, "What about you?"

She has long been able to rationalize most things after the fact. This question should be one of them.

"S'fine," he mumbles, in a manner that is absurdly unconvincing. "I'm fine. So you should go home."

At that, Naoto has another of those irrational moments that occur all too frequently around Kanji Tatsumi, and considers, just for a moment, shaking him by the shoulders and telling him not to be so damned stubborn. Which would, of course, be tantamount to a temper tantrum. Instead, she takes a deep breath, musters her self-resolve, and defers to Rise.

"Yeah, we know," Rise says, straightforward yet somehow soothing. "But we're gonna hang around anyway. I can tell the senpai too, if you want?"

Kanji hesitates. His gaze is fixed on the floor, now, at a point roughly thirty centimeters to Naoto's left. "Tomorrow, maybe. They'd make a fuss."

"There is a cafeteria on the ground floor," Naoto says. If her estimation is correct, Kanji hasn't eaten since this morning. "You should have dinner. It's already eight thirty and—"

Rise's eyes widen. "Seriously? Oh, man - if I don't let Grandma know where I am, I'm toast!" She flips her phone open, glances at the _No Cellphones_ sign posted on the wall, then turns to head down the corridor. "I'll be a few minutes, okay?"

With that, she's gone – leaving Naoto and Kanji standing opposite each other in awkward, heavy silence.

Souji Seta, Naoto thinks, would know exactly what to say here. The right words and the right way to speak them. He would know how to comfort Kanji, something that she understands needs to be done but has no idea how to approach.

She lifts her head to look at Kanji. He's grown better at maintaining eye contact with her over the past few months, but it still takes a moment for him to meet her gaze.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"Don't be," Kanji instantly, almost aggressively shoots back. "Ma's still kickin'. No reason to be sorry."

Naoto bites her lip. The _wrong_ words, or at least the wrong way to say them. "Yes, I – I know that. I mean I'm sorry you're going through this," she tries to clarify, then adds, even though she can't be sure of its truth, "Your mother will be fine."

"Yeah." His fists tense at his sides and he swallows visibly. "Yeah."

A taut, fragile pause follows. Kanji keeps his head turned slightly to the side, staring at the empty white wall opposite the door to his mother's room.

The words leave Naoto's mouth before she's entirely aware she intends to speak. "Would you – like company?"

He looks back at her, frowning and uncertain. "C-Company?"

"In the cafeteria. I could accompany you – and Rise, of course." Rise is necessary. Yosuke jokes that his underclassmen have become inseparable, that their 'weirdness' bonds them all like glue, but the truth is somewhat different.

Kanji's facial expressions, at least, are in general easily translated. At the mention of Rise, he immediately looks relieved – but with an odd tinge of disappointment. "Oh. Yeah. That'd be good."

"We should wait for her. She'll be back shortly."

"Right."

Another silence. The type that Rise would naturally fill, sparkling water flowing around rocks.

Neither she nor Kanji know of Naoto's planned departure. Naoto considered informing them only in an abstract sense, with no intention of ever following through. Instead, she told herself that they appreciate the nature of her work, that she is under no obligation to divulge her plans to anyone, particularly people who will not be affected. Particularly not Kanji, still standing opposite her now, heavy and awkward and quiet.

_This_ is why Rise is necessary. Without her there are gaps, the type that both Naoto and Kanji seem to instinctively try and fail to fill. This time, it appears to be Kanji's turn. "Back when Souji-senpai was here," he begins, oddly, then hesitates.

Naoto waits.

"Otsuka, the cook from Aiya. He said Ma had gone to the hospital, an' I thought—I mean, y'would, right?" Kanji pauses again, takes a breath, and runs a hand through his hair. "But she was fine. No worries. Went there with this kid who got knocked down by some asshole on a bike. Guy didn't even stop." A lopsided half-smile. "'Least Hanamura only hits trash cans."

Over time, Kanji's blunt yet fractured manner of speaking has become easier to decode. Naoto sometimes regards him in the same way as his speech: roughly-hewn, seemingly simplistic, yet full of unexpressed thoughts.

"Souji-senpai, he came to the hospital with me," he continues. "I acted like a big idiot. Lost my temper." He rubs a hand over his face, ending in a shake of his head. "Should've apologized to her. For a lot of stuff."

"You'll have ample opportunity," Naoto says, willing both of them to believe it.

"Yeah. Doctors said things've gotta be different though." He rolls his shoulders. "Don't want this to happen again…but - maybe it will, y'know?"

His voice starts out thin, but cracks completely on the last few words. Naoto (always without thinking, lately) reaches out and takes his hand. It's rough and warm and too large, and she can only grip three fingers.

Kanji stares at their joined hands, then at her. She half-expects him to recoil, but instead his jaw tightens. "You – you _get_ it, right?"

Rationally, the statement demands clarification. Naoto doesn't ask. "Some of it."

A long, tense pause – then all at once his expression relaxes. "Yeah. Maybe you do."

In truth, Rise is simpler. Her friendship is easier to navigate because she makes it that way, forever adjusting herself to fit those around her. Naoto understands and appreciates the roles they satisfy and the spaces they fill for each other. Her relationship with Kanji is very different. Naoto is left with the unnerving certainty that there is a role to fulfill, one she may even _want_, but which she has no idea how to approach. Neither, it seems, does he – but sometimes Naoto thinks, maybe they could both learn.

...Which is an absurdly selfish idea, particularly when Kanji's mother is lying in a hospital bed on the other side of the wall. Naoto releases his hand and lifts her own to adjust the brim of her cap. "D-Did you want to see your mother again, while we wait?"

"Nah, s'okay." Kanji manages a weak, tired smile. "If Ma was awake, she'd just bug me to go eat dinner."

In which case, they need to find Rise. A problem with a logical solution; those, Naoto can easily handle. She's about to turn away when Kanji speaks again.

"You're going, then?"

Her breath catches, and she swallows hard in an effort to find her voice. "I – I promised my grandfather and the travel arrangements are—"

Except there's no way Kanji could know of her plans – and from his confused expression, she realizes that he doesn't. "Meant going to get Rise," he says, frowning. "What's this 'bout traveling?"

She could backtrack. Or simply refuse to answer. But both options are a form of lying, part of a front that, right now, she can't bring herself to enact. "I'm going to England tomorrow, for work."

His frown deepens. "When were you gonna—"

"I could stay," she says in a rush, even though she isn't sure she could, when plans have been made and her grandfather and his colleague are both expecting her presence. But as she stares up at Kanji's confused and slightly hurt expression, it seems vital that she _does_ – and there is, Naoto knows, in a part of her mind she avoids confronting, a reason for this.

Kanji hesitates, studying her carefully, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. Then he shakes his head. "No. You – you gotta go," he mumbles. "S'important."

She gestures toward the door to his mother's room. "So is this."

Six months ago, they all saw each other die (Kanji, pulled down by the Shadows while Naoto stood and watched, right until he disappeared into the dark) then never raised the subject again. The threads might lead there, she thinks, if the prospect of untangling them didn't send her stomach twisting into its own elaborate knots. The point where, on some level, she allowed herself to be honest. _Everyone leaves_. Accepting it proved a different matter.

"So are you," she quickly adds, around the sudden tightness in her throat.

(They both ran to save Souji at the same time. Naoto got there first; Kanji went before her only because he shoved her aside.)

He blinks at her, then quickly looks away, and doesn't so much run a hand through his hair as attack it.

"I-I'm not—" he starts. Then, eventually, his voice quiet and unsteady. "Y-You - y'don't hafta say that stuff."

"I know."

This only serves to furrow his brow further and increase the red flush tinging his face. "Still - you - you don't need to stay," he says, after a moment's hesitation. "Don't want you bailing, not just 'cause of this. It'll cause trouble."

_Bailing_. Kanji's typically blunt yet accurate phrasing, and the fact that Naoto considered doing so – is _still_ considering – speaks volumes. But in truth, he's right. Withdrawing from the case would be unprofessional, and given the gradual revelation of her physical sex, she can ill afford another black mark against her. She gives a quick, stiff nod. "I'll call. To check on your mother's progress."

"Yeah." He finally looks her in the eye, smiling slightly. "That'd be great."

Naoto smiles back. It feels a little taut, but genuine nonetheless.

There's no way to tell how long she'll spend abroad and when she returns they'll most likely both pretend this half-conversation never happened. Then again, perhaps they won't. She isn't sure which option frightens her more.

Kanji rolls his neck and lets out a long, heavy breath. "I – I lied earlier," he says. "I'm not fine. But I think maybe everything's gonna be." Then he tips his head toward the double doors at the end of the corridor. "C'mon, let's go find Rise."

With a quick nod of acknowledgment, Naoto starts to walk alongside him, and pretends not to notice when he shortens his strides to keep pace.


End file.
